


A Quiet Time

by helvel



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, M/M, Poor Lenny, Russian Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 06:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21351472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvel/pseuds/helvel
Summary: It’s pouring buckets outside, the wind is strong enough to make the old house rattle, and Lenny’s got a watch shift in a few hours. If he wants to get any rest at all before he has to go stand around in the stormy weather, he needs to fall asleepright this second.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Jenny Kirk/Leonard "Lenny" Summers
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	A Quiet Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Тихий час](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27896833) by [Zola_116](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zola_116/pseuds/Zola_116)

> Sometimes you just got to write a stupid happily-ever-after fic to make yourself feel better, right?
> 
> Zola_116 kindly translated this fic into Russian!: https://ficbook.net/readfic/9306038/23845847

Lenny rolls over in his bedroll for the hundredth time. He punches his pillow, shakes it out, rests his head on it for a few seconds, then pulls it up around his ears. The noise of the party in the next room is enough to make the walls rattle, but Lenny can’t blame them for being loud. There’s not much else for all of them to do but have a good time together while they’re cooped up in the old farm house, waiting for a raging storm to pass. That’s the problem. It’s pouring buckets outside, the wind is strong enough to make the old house rattle, and Lenny’s got a watch shift in a few hours. If he wants to get any rest at all before he has to go stand around in the stormy weather, he needs to fall asleep  _ right this second _ .

He’s been telling himself that same thing for over an hour now. 

Bill is somewhere beside him in the dark room, sleeping like a baby and snoring like a bear. For the first time in his life, Lenny wishes he was Bill. He rolls over again and presses his hands over his ears. He slows his breathing, in… out...

The door bangs open, letting in bright light, the racket from the party, and a very drunk Arthur. 

“ _ Bill, _ ” Arthur rasps into the room in a too-loud whisper, “ _ Bill! _ ”

Bill snores on. Arthur whisper-shouts his name again. An unfamiliar wave of annoyance bubbles up in Lenny’s chest.

“He’s asleep,” Lenny snaps, after Arthur whispers for Bill again. Exhaustion makes him sound crosser than he would normally speak to Arthur, but Arthur’s too drunk to notice anyway. “What do you want?”

“Hah!  _ Lenny. _ ” Arthur sloshes into the room, and the floor shakes as he hits the ground beside Lenny.  _ Damn, _ that’s going to hurt in the morning, though Arthur’s going to be hurting anyway, if the whiskey breath wafting off him is anything to go by. “Lenny, my boy, maybe you can help me…”

Lenny squints at him. The brief burst of light from the main room blinded him and he can’t see Arthur at all. “Help you with what?”

“You got any Vaseline I can borrow?”

“Uh. I think so.” Lenny pats the space beside his bedroll for his bag, and digs around until he finds the jar inside to hand it over. 

“Knew I could count on you!” A sweaty hand scrubs over Lenny’s face in what Lenny can only imagine is Arthur’s attempt at a friendly pat, and Lenny squirms away.

“Alright, stop that. Just give it back when you’re done, yeah?” He knows how much of a menace Arthur is when he drinks, and that means things in Arthur’s possession tend to go missing. “Need it for my Cattleman, works better than gun oil in this weather.”

Arthur chuckles. “That ain’t what  _ I  _ need it for.”

Lenny doesn’t like that tone of voice at all. “What… do you need it for?”

After a low hum and what sounds like Arthur rubbing his stubbly chin, he says, “You’re what, nineteen now?”

“... yeah.”

“Ever been sweet on someone?”

Before Lenny’s got a chance to think about it, Jenny’s face jumps into his thoughts - her bright eyes and sweet smile and long, dark hair. “Uh, I don’t know… Maybe. Yeah.”

“Do you know Charles Smith?”

The change in the line of questioning throws him, but then, Arthur is pretty drunk and Lenny can’t expect him to make a whole lot of sense. “Course I know him, Arthur, he’s been running with us for a few months now.”

“Do y’think he likes me?”

“Do I…” What the Hell? Lenny wishes he could see Arthur’s face to see if this is some kind of joke. It’s a poorly kept secret that Arthur and Charles have been going off together on more hunting trips than anyone rightly needs to, so he’s got no idea why Arthur is wondering how Charles feels about him now. “Uh, yeah? He probably does like you.”

“You think so?”

Lenny doesn’t know much about Charles, other than that he’s a good hunter, plays the harmonica, and scares the Hell out of anyone standing in their way on a job. There’s something familiar, though, in Charles’ quiet brooding, some shared way of being, that makes Lenny think of he and Arthur finding some understanding or quiet solace in each other. 

“Sure,” Lenny agrees, “Must like you at least as much as you like him, huh?”

“Years ago,” Arthur starts, and Lenny’s sure their conversation is about to go in yet another direction, “before you was born, probably, it was my birthday, and Dutch bought me a girl for the night.”

Lenny groans. “I don’t want to hear about it!”

“Ain’t much to tell. Didn’t last long, thirty seconds maybe. Was pretty good, I thought then.”

“Got it, okay, good talk Arthur, now let’s-”

“Lenny, my boy, I’m trying to give you some advice.”

“And what’s that supposed to be? Stay away from Dutch on my birthday?”

Arthur chuckles. “Well, yeah. But I’m telling you. It ain’t worth it if it ain’t with someone special.” 

Lenny thinks he’s finally figured out the direction the conversation is going. “Someone like Charles?” he prompts. Arthur makes a hum of agreement, pushes himself up, and starts whistling  _ Ring Dang Do. _

Suddenly, Lenny has an idea what his Vaseline is about to be used for. 

“Hey, now-” He says, reaching out in the dark to find the jar. “Y’know what, go borrow some from Bill if you’re going to be using it for-”

“Lenny, Charles and I are just going to-”

“No, no, don’t say it-”

The door opens again, flooding the room with light, and the huge silhouette in the doorway is even bigger than Arthur’s had been.

“Arthur?” Charles whispers into the room - actually whispers. “You in here?”

“Charles! C’mere, Lenny’s got some Vaseline for us!” Arthur says, and it’s a good thing the rest of the gang in the front room are caught up in a rowdy song together because he shouted that loud enough to wake the dead. Charles closes the door and crosses the room, footsteps impossibly silent, though it’s not hard to tell when he settles down beside Arthur from the pleased sound Arthur makes.

Even with Bill’s continued snoring and the party in full swing, the sound of the cork being pulled out of the Vaseline jar is deafening in the room. Lenny wants to make a grab for it, but with the two of them practically on top of each other now, he’s afraid of what he might grab. By some awful curse, Lenny’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to see the outline of them together. He sees Arthur take Charles’ hand, kiss the palm of it, and then… 

Start massaging it with Vaseline-coated fingers.

“Feels better, baby?” Arthur asks him. 

“Yeah,” Charles agrees, soft and low while he watches Arthur’s fingers press into his palm. “Nice.”

The burn on Charles’ hand from Blackwater was one of the only mishaps in what was otherwise a perfectly executed job. The skin is healing, but tight and tender to move, which must be not only uncomfortable but frustrating for someone like Charles. Lenny is sure he’d seen Hosea mixing up a salve of herbs for it at one point. Now, a piss-drunk Arthur tenderly holds his sweetheart’s hand with borrowed Vaseline to ease the discomfort. 

The moment is so intimate Lenny feels like a Peeping Tom. He shouldn’t be watching. He imagines what it would be like, having someone (someone with bright eyes and a sweet smile and long, dark hair) hold his hand, dote over him like that. Whisper to him warm and tender like it’s just the two of them alone in the world. 

Some sort of sigh must wheeze out of him at that thought, because Charles turns towards him, eyes bright in the dark room. 

“Oh. Hello,” Charles says, way too calm. 

“ _ Goodbye! _ ” Lenny springs out of his bedroll and flees.

The party is in full swing,with everyone having a good enough time that they don’t really notice a thoroughly embarrassed, thoroughly exhausted Lenny standing around in his union suit. The reek of alcohol is strong enough to make Lenny’s eyes sting. Dutch and Hosea are locked in a lively debate about who really won that quickdraw back in the day, with a circle of half-drunk spectators whose heads swivel back and forth with every verbal blow. Nearby, Mac and Davey are trading actual blows in a fist fight. Karen’s voice rises above the din in a song, joined by Uncle singing a completely different verse. Cain starts howling along.

Lenny squeezes his eyes shut and stumbles off down the hall.

Sean is at the end of it in front of an open window, swaying slightly. The icy wind is a chilling reminder of what Lenny is going to be facing in just a few hours, but it isn’t doing much to cool Sean’s ruddy face. Still, he beams at Lenny when he notices him and slings an arm around his shoulders. 

“Summers!” he says, breathing more whiskey than air into Lenny’s face, “Thought you were sleeping.”

“Trying to,” Lenny mumbles.

“I saw that old sour bastard Morgan go into the bedroom. Best to get up now, that face will give you nightmares!” Sean laughs at his own joke, tugging Lenny closer, and Lenny can’t help but smile a little. 

“Uh huh,” he agrees. “Awful, that one.” Loud, rambunctious, and alarmingly charming - drunk Arthur and drunk Sean are basically the same person, even though both of them would die of shame to hear it. Truth be told, Lenny’s real fond of them both. 

“So, now you’re here to have a drink with Mister MacGuire, hey?” Sean takes another swig from the bottle then presses it to Lenny’s chest, and Lenny catches it before it slips from Sean’s hand. He considers it. The booze would help him relax, which he badly needs, especially as the ruckus grows even louder behind him. Just one drink… but it’s never just one drink with Sean.

“Uh, maybe another time.”

“ _ C’mooon, _ Summers.”

“Give me a cigarette,” a voice says.

“A cigarette? Thought you’d quit, but alright then.” Sean starts patting his pockets, searching. “Knew it wouldn’t take long for you to come to your senses!” He finds his cigarettes and starts fumbling one out of the box for Lenny

“Uh...” Lenny manages. John, the actual requestor of the cigarette, is standing outside the window and peering in like an angry cat. So that’s what the watch shift looks like tonight. His nose is red, his hands are pale white around the rifle. He’s soaked to the skin and miserable as Hell. 

A cigarette bumps against Lenny’s lips as Sean tries to offer it to him, still having not noticed John outside. Lenny takes it, and the match from Sean’s clumsy fingers, and lights the cigarette to pass it out to John.

“Marston!” Sean says in surprise, “... look at you, takin’ your first bath this year!” He barely manages to finish the line before bursting into laughter. Yep, he’s definitely the same person as drunk Arthur. 

“You won’t be laughing so much when it’s your turn out here,” John complains, shivering and scowling and sucking down the cigarette like it’s his dying breath. Sean finds this terribly amusing. 

“Nope, weren’t me who was unlucky enough to draw the short straw there, Golden Boy.  _ Run between the raindrops, _ I do.” Sean peers back at the main room, where some sort of jig seems to have started up. “Which one of these sorry bastards was it…”

“It was me,” Lenny groans. 

“Ready to swap anytime you are,” John says. It sounds like a threat, like everything does when John is in a bad mood. That’s going to be Lenny in a few hours, shivering in the pouring rain, and he still hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. He could cry, if his eyes didn’t already ache so much, but sleep still feels miles away. Doesn’t seem like there’s much point in hoping for it anymore. 

“Alright,” Lenny agrees, head hung low, “might as well get it over with.”

John brightens like the sun just came out. “Yeah? Meet you at the front, then.”

Lenny trudges back to the bedroom to get dressed. Bill’s snoring hasn’t let up, and now Arthur is snoring as well. Charles is at his side, watching over him. Damned if he and Arthur don’t look like two little puppies curled together. It’s cute, actually cute. Once Arthur’s sober, and done with the hangover, Lenny will have to assure him that yeah, Charles definitely does like him. 

By that time, Lenny will be soaked to the skin, freezing cold, and even more exhausted than he is now. 

The rain is still coming down in buckets. Lenny peers outside. He can just see the dim light in the windows of the small house, where some of the girls are sleeping away from the rumpus and noise of the rest of the gang. 

Summers, you idiot. Why it didn’t occur to him sooner...

He tugs his boots and hat on and hurries out through the main room. Three offers of whiskey and one challenge to a game of five-finger-filet come his way, but he evades them all and makes it out the front door. After a second to gather himself, he takes a deep breath and sprints off across the yard.

“LENNY!” comes John’s shout through the rain, half confused. 

“Changed my mind,” Lenny calls to him once he’s sheltered beneath the overhang above the small house’s door, “You finish the watch shift.”

“ _ What the Hell! _ ” John snarls. The rain drowns it out enough for Lenny not to care, though he swears he hears Sean laughing before the door closes behind him. 

A dim lamp burns in the corner, casting just enough light that Lenny can see the sleeping figures around the room. Grimshaw looks peaceful as an angel, little Jack is tucked up against his mama’s side. Lenny quietly takes off his wet hat and jacket to hang them by the door. Just the short sprint through the rain was enough to soak them - good thing he’s not spending more time out there yet. He’s got a few hours, still, to get some sleep in the blessed quiet here. 

“Lenny?” comes a soft voice, “is that you?” 

At the other side of the room, Jenny has pushed herself up onto her elbow. She blinks at him sleepily. Lenny wonders if he’s finally fallen asleep and this is all a very nice dream. 

“Uh, yeah. It’s me,” he whispers back. He’s definitely asleep, or else he took a wrong turn on his way out to the small house and stumbled into Heaven, because Jenny beckons him over. Lenny carefully makes his way across the room, stepping around the sleeping folk on the floor, until he reaches her side. 

“Can’t sleep?” she whispers. Lenny nods, speechless as she moves over to make space for him on the bedroll. “Lay down here for a while. You got a watch shift in a few hours, don’t you?”

“Yeah…” is all Lenny gets out. He gently lowers himself down beside her. Her hand finds his and presses their palms together. She smiles at him.

“You’ll drift off in no time out here. Just close your eyes, and listen to the rain…”

Rain? Oh yeah. Lenny forgot about it completely. He’s going to be out in it in a few hours. He came out here to try to get some sleep while he can. 

Then Jenny lets out the softest little sigh as her eyes flutter closed. She shifts closer, close enough to tuck her head against his chest, close enough that Lenny can feel the warmth of her body against his own, warmest where their fingers are entwined. 

Sleep be damned. Lenny isn’t going to miss a second of this. 


End file.
